Foundations of Envy
by Lear's Daughter
Summary: It's not easy, growing up with Jack Bauer as your younger brother. Three snapshots from Jack and Graem's childhood.


Disclaimer: I don't own 24.

Jack's in first grade at the same school where Graem's in fourth. They stay out of each other's way for the most part. It's not that they don't get along, it's just that they don't have much in common, and anyway Graem is too old and wise to hang out with his kid brother. It doesn't help that Jack entered school a year early, or that he's already made a group of friends despite being about three inches shorter than everyone else.

Graem has always been a target for bullies. They like to steal his lunch money and knock him down in the halls. He puts up with it because he has to, because he's not strong enough to fight back, and because if he tells his dad he'll be a snitch. (Probably his dad wouldn't help him anyway. "You've got to fight your own battles, Graem," he can imagine his father saying.)

Graem tries to hide the bullying from Jack. It's useless, of course—the bullies will strike anywhere, and Jack's a smart kid, he can read between the lines—but he likes to tell himself that it's his duty to protect his younger brother from the world. (Mostly, he's ashamed by his own weakness, but that's something he'll never admit, not even to himself.)

Then, one morning, he and Jack have just gotten off the bus when two fifth graders seize Graem by the arms and throw him to the ground.

"You little snitch!" Billy Durnham says, kicking Graem in the ribs. "You told Mrs. Lent that Josh beat you up! She suspended him because of you!"

Graem whimpers and tries to protect his ribs with his arms as the blows rain down on him. He barely hears a quiet voice say, "Graem didn't do it. I did."

The kicks stop. Graem painfully lifts his head to see Jack facing off against the two boys, both of whom tower over him. Jack's eyes dart between the assailants, but his face is strangely calm, as if he isn't afraid, as if he knows what to do.

"That so, little boy?" Billy says dangerously, advancing on Jack.

"No one touches my brother," Jack says firmly.

Billy laughs. "As if we're afraid of you."

Graem knows that Jack is in for the beating of his life. His brother looks at him, assessing. Graem can read the question in his eyes: is Graem going to get up and help? Graem lets his head drop to the ground. Just before he squeezes his eyes shut, he sees Jack's fists clench at his sides.

At five years old, Jack Bauer knows how to throw a punch. He knows how to take one, too.

* * *

There are nine American flags in and around the house. Jack is ten years old when he goes on a mission to locate each flag. (Graem thinks it's amusing that Jack calls his little games "missions.") There's the big one on top of the house, of course. Then there's two smaller flags, one in each of their bedrooms. Five paintings around the house have flags in them (three of the paintings are of George Washington). Finally, their father's office has a framed print of a flag displayed prominently on the wall.

Jack, not satisfied with simply having found the flags—because, Graem thinks spitefully, Jack's never quite satisfied with _anything_, he's always pushing, pushing, pushing, until Graem just wants to lock him in a closet—uses a ruler, pen, and the underside of a large piece of wrapping paper to draw a relatively accurate schematic of the house with each flag's location neatly marked. After that, Jack goes back to his old tricks, heading up his little band of friends, most of them a few years older than him, all of them totally obedient to his desires. Graem's too proud to be one of his little brother's followers. He wishes he weren't.

When their father comes back from his month-long business trip, Graem proudly presents him with his report card. All A's. Their father smiles, the expression not quite reaching his eyes.

"You're a good boy, Graem," Philip Bauer says, as if Graem were a dog.

Graem preens under the praise.

Jack barrels down the stairs. "Dad!" he says. "You're home!"

Their father chuckles. "It's good to see you, too, Jack."

"Look what I made," Jack says, thrusting a rolled up piece of paper at the man.

Graem's forgotten about the map until now. Inwardly he burns with embarrassment for his brother, who's sure to be shot down by their demanding father in the face of this foolishness.

Their father's eyebrows go up, but he obediently unrolls the map on a table. He stares at it for a long time, his forehead furrowed, and when he looks up again his expression is inscrutable.

"Do you understand what you have here?" he asks Jack, flattening his palm on the map. "Do you know what this is?"

Jack's face is strangely solemn. "Yeah."

Their father stares at Jack a moment longer before cracking a smile—a real smile, this time. "Brilliant, son," he says, and ruffles Jack's hair.

Jack glows under his approval.

Their father goes upstairs to unpack. Graem glares at Jack, not sure whether he's jealous or admiring.

"What was that?" he demands, stalking over to the table and frowning at the map, which is just as he remembered it. Utterly pointless.

"You don't get it?" Jack says, his voice almost pitying.

Graem looks at the map, tries to see something that will explain, but though his keen mind—and he's smarter than Jack, he has to be smarter than Jack, it's the only way he's better than his brother—twists and turns, he just can't see it.

"The flags mark the key spots in the house," Jack explains, as if it's obvious. "Most of them mark the rooms it'd be easiest to escape from if someone broke in. Your bedroom, mine, the sitting room that overlooks a tree that'd be easy to climb."

"Oh yeah? What about the one in Dad's office?"

"That's where he hides his safe."

A few seconds pass in silence. When Graem speaks again, he can't keep the bitterness from his voice. "So what're you going to do with the map now? Hang it on your wall? Proof that you're Dad's favorite?"

Jack stares at Graem. "Of course not," he says. "I've got to shred it."

* * *

Graem's a sophomore at Stanford when his father calls and invites him to come home for the weekend.

"I want to show you the company," his father says. "Your legacy."

_My legacy,_ Graem thinks, smiling, the expression unfamiliar. _Mine._

When he gets home, Jack isn't there. His brother's absence is palpable; Jack always makes the huge house feel smaller than it actually is.

"Your brother's away at football camp," his father tells him after greeting Graem with a handshake. "He's starting as quarterback this year, you know."

Graem hadn't known. He hadn't wanted to know.

"I don't even think he likes the sport all that much, but he needs to stay active, and he's a natural leader," his father goes on.

They go to the office. It's the first time Graem has been there, and he is fascinated by the size of the building, its white walls, the bustle of the secretaries and employees as they work to make his father money.

His father introduces Graem to everyone they pass. The employees greet him warmly enough, though they all seem a bit surprised to see him. He doesn't understand why until he meets his father's second in command.

"Graem, this is Martin Friendly. Martin, my older son, Graem."

Martin, who is a few years younger than Graem's father and has cold eyes, shakes Graem's hand. "We're all very impressed by your brother," Martin says. "Sharp as a tack, that one. Your father, too. You have a lot to live up to, young Graem."

_One day,_ Graem thinks, _this man will follow my orders._

Later, in the car on the way home, Graem gathers all of his courage and says to his father, "You've taken Jack to see the company before?"

His father doesn't take his eyes off the road. "I take him along most weekends. Jack's got a real talent for business, you know. He'll be a great leader for the company someday."

"L—leader?"

"Of course," his father says matter-of-factly. "Jack will be CEO when I die. You'll be right beside him, of course, as CFO, or maybe COO. Your exact role will be up to Jack." He pats Graem on the shoulder. "You understand, don't you? You'll do this for me? It's what's best for the company."

Graem does not say, _But I'm your oldest son._ He does not say, _I'm as good as Jack, don't you see that?_ What he says is: "Of course, Dad. Anything for you."

And though the words burn like bile at the back of his throat, he means them.


End file.
